The bunker
by purified-sam
Summary: Just a short one shot from a Tumblr prompt about the bunker and those residing within it.


The bunker was first and foremost, in the simplest of terms, a mess. Each Inhabitant of the space floated around in a constant cycle of worry, content and then worry again. That is except the one who was tied down with chains. Instead of worry he instead spent his days creating new and eventful ways of massacring the other inhabitants. He was currently on his 264th method and, if he did say so himself, it was the greatest one yet. Due to the fact that the inhabitants in the bunker spent most of their time worrying, mess just seemed to gather until it seemed like it was a part of the furniture. Not a soul seemed to notice anymore and they all seemed content on letting the little things linger.

There were old pizza boxes and tiny crumbs littered around the floors, they had sunk into the gaps between the golden floor boards and seemed to have taken up permanent residence there thanks to Dean. In the far right hand corner in Dean's bedroom there was a small beer stain that Charlie often said looked somewhat like a dog and had jokingly named it 'sparky'. The stain displeasured Dean immensely however; he didn't seem to have the heart to remove it. All around the house in the oddest of places you will often see a variety of Dean's tools accompanied by the strong smell of oil and leather. The inhabitants never seem to mind, they only allow a small smile to grace their lips before carrying on their way.

More often than not you will find books scattered in numerous different locations. They're each well-used by Sam who is repeatedly too drained to remember to place them away as he drags his bedraggled form to bed. Each book will have a book mark thrown haphazardly inside them and are long forgotten until they're needed for the next hunt. The other inhabitants will often see random drawings on odd pieces of paper that are scattered all around the bunker. They all know Sam secretly adored doodling in his most stressed of times and they all (out of habit) leave the small pieces of decorated paper where they found them.

There were different games and DVDs pilled next to each other by the side of the TV by Charlie. Each morning the board games left from last night would lie forgotten on the timeworn, chipped wooden table. The Instruction manual would lie slightly tattered next to it from the endless hours of Castiel flicking through and trying to understand how the game was meant to be played. There will often be countless wrappers lying crumpled around the open case of The Lord of the Rings box set from the vast nights Charlie would spend encouraging (or forcing) the others to watch it alongside her. After particularly hard days, the other inhabitants will see pages upon pages of coding scattered around the library from the nights spent wide awake typing up coding for one game or another. They will often bow their heads and allow a frown to pull itself upon their foreheads before placing it back where it came from and allowing the flittering thoughts of Charlie to enter their heads.

There were sometimes different burger wrappers left by Castiel around the chessboard that had found a permanent place on the wooden table that accompanied Charlie's board games. Minuscule crumbs littered the black and white squares and, even after being swept away countless times by a very irritated Kevin, always seemed to be there. The small chess pieces are always either placed on odd places around the table or they lie chaotically on the carpet below the table. In times when Castiel was lost in thought in his human mind small, painful tears would fall down his face and their remnants would form a small puddle on the squares of the chessboard until he snapped himself out of his trance and went back to relishing in what free will has to offer him. The other inhabitants would see these small puddles on occasion and let themselves feel his anguish until they, just like him, went back to remember how fortunate they ever were to be alive.

Hundreds of pieces of paper contain things from basic Sudoku all the way up to information on the tablets were left all around the house by Kevin. Each one of them contained mindless scribbles that none of the other inhabitants could ever understand, each piece contained exactly what was inside his head at that moment; a jumbled mess of words. For the moments when he was not trying to think he has dungeons and dragons hidden underneath his bed and would bring it out only to engage in a game with Charlie while Cas watch, baffled and confused, from the sidelines. These were the rare moments when Kevin allowed himself to smile; he lost himself inside a mystical world where he hadn't lost himself as he could be anyone he wished. In the moments when he allowed himself to feel, when he let himself think about what he could have had he would stop and write. He would allow a fantasy world to flow from his pen and would smile at the characters he had created. Sometimes he would leave these pieces of paper lying around and the other inhabitants would find them and smile at his creation before idly placing it where it had been before.

Then there was the man in the dungeon that had the devils trap. Crowley would spend his days plotting revenge to try to forget what was going on in his mind. There was pain in his head as the humanity slowly began to wedge itself inside him as the evil began to bleed out of him. He would hold on to the horror filled thoughts like a buoy however, each day he found himself wondering why. The only clear though in his head revolved around thoughts of light, and happiness and he resented the humans greatly for it. In the times of silences, when the inhabitants had nothing to do to occupy themselves, his chains rattling was the only sign of life is the vast space and they smiled to themselves every time they heard the noise before retreating back into their thoughts.

Each small thing tied each inhabitant to the bunker. As time went on the inhabitants didn't so much think of the bunker as just the bunker anymore. Instead, they started calling it something else, something that with it held the promise of safety and love. So, the bunker may have been a mess but to them it was now home and to be honest, they wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
